


Step Right Up

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin gets a little too bent out of shape over winning something for Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Right Up

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to my friend Foxx for making me ship this ridiculousness.

Slurping down the last dregs of her lemonade, Jean scans the crowd until she finds a familiar pink tuft of hair over by one of the carnival games. Edging around a squadron of squalling children, she makes her way through the throng until she’s right beside Quentin, who’s rearing back to throw a scuffed ball at an all-too-stable stack of milk bottles. “Found you,” she says, and nudges his back slightly, making him jump about a foot in the air.

“Don’t distract me,” he says tersely, jaw set. “Just because this game is rigged doesn’t mean I can’t beat it.”

Jean blinks. “That’s exactly what it means.”

“No it’s- I- the game wasn’t designed for people of my- _shut up_.” Jean quirks an eyebrow. He hesitates, lowers the hand holding the ball. “I mean. Sorry. Don’t shut up. Didn’t mean it. You’re pretty. I need to focus.” Quentin aims the ball at the jugs again and Jean glances over at the vendor, who’s holding a sizeable amount of cash and grinning at Quentin like a shark.

“Quentin? Quentin. How long have you been trying to win this?” She angles her neck around so she can look him in the eyes, and he immediately looks abashed.

“Not… more than two hours. Probably.”

“Mmhm,” Jean nods. “Do ya think now might be time for a break? They’ve got a really big cow in that tent over there. _Super_ cool.”

“Jean,” Quentin says, biting his lip as he turns to face her. “I did not spend two and a half hours playing this ridiculous game so that I could walk away before defeating it. I’m not over here because I _enjoy_ failure. I’ve been throwing these _stupid_ balls at those _stupid_ bottles so that I could win a prize _for you_ because I THOUGHT you might like it, and I am going to accomplish that even if I have to tear down this damn carnival ride by ride, game by game, _funnel cake by freaking funnel cake_.”

Jean blinks. “It’s like a _really_ big cow.”

Quentin turns, pitches the ball, and misses horribly. “ _Dammit_.” He pounds the counter of the shoddily-assembled stand with his fist.

“That’s one more try, son,” the vendor tells him and hands him the ball back, gleeful at Quentin’s desperation.

Quentin eyes the stack of milk bottles like a wearied baseball player, aims the ball, lets it fly, and… knocks over all three bottles.

With a little help from Jean’s telekinesis, not that he’ll ever know.

“Congrats,” says the man behind the counter as he hands Quentin the smallest teddy bear known to man.

“Well,” says Quentin, turning to Jean with the well-fought-for reward in his hand. “This is a little anticlimactic.”

“I _love_ it,” she assures him, taking the bear and giving him a quick kiss. “Now come _on_ , the line for the Ferris wheel’s really short right now.” And she drags him away.


End file.
